


No Man Left Behind

by Mina Lightstar (ukefied)



Category: Will & Grace
Genre: M/M, NaNoWriMo fic, PWP, episode coda
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-01-30
Updated: 2012-01-30
Packaged: 2017-10-30 08:49:05
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,334
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/329963
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ukefied/pseuds/Mina%20Lightstar
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Bill’s cult has fallen apart, and his troops have left him.  Jack refuses to leave a fallen man behind — though he might get behind a fallen man.</p>
            </blockquote>





	No Man Left Behind

**Author's Note:**

> Set after 2x20: Girls, Interrupted. Totally a P to the W to the P. This was a NaNoWriMo 2011 fic. Standard disclaimers for quality of fic written during the flurry of NaNo apply. XD
> 
> Fanbingo square: Rare Pairings (no kidding) / Hey, It's That Guy (Minor Characters)

Jack barely makes it halfway down the hall before shoving Bill against the wall. Screw butterfly-kisses; now that the gig is up, it’s full-on tongue-to-tongue combat! Jack takes him by surprise — cute, nervous thing always has his hands stuffed in his pockets, like he can’t trust himself — and manages to swipe his tongue along Bill’s lips once, hard, before the blond turns his head away from the touch.

“W-what are you doing?”

Jack gives him a look. “Uh, I’m about to rub you down, hello?” He shakes his head at the naivete, then goes back for more.

Bill tries to retreat further into the wall. “No, no — wait. I thought we were going to,” he hesitates, “hit the showers?” His pitch rises during the last word, and Jack almost laughs at the scandalized expression on his face — like he can’t decide which is worse.

“Well, if that’s what you really want, we can totally swing by the gym and get the authentic experience.” Jack grins, rubbing his hands up and down Bill’s arms. This time, he _does_ laugh at the expression on Bill’s face. “ _Or,_ we can head back to your place and I can show you the Jack Attack.”

Bill is looking more and more uncomfortable — but, and Jack can discern these things, he is _not_ disgusted. Confused, yes. In denial? A thousand times, yes. But disgusted? Hell no, girlfriend. “Jack, listen, I’ve been telling you that I’m straight.”

“You’re not,” Jack tells him, with the schooled patience of a saint — because Bill should be who he is, goddammit, and part of who he is involves sleeping with Jack tonight. “Honey, you are not a damn hetero. You might wish to be, because you think it would make your life easier—”

“It _will_ make my life easier,” Bill cuts in.

“—But we both know you’re living a lie right now. How long have you been pretending to be something you’re not?” Jack cocks his head. Bill is really, really cute. Jack is killing two birds with this one: first, help a closet case embrace his inner queen; second, deflower the new queen.

Bill squirms against the wall, glancing nervously left and right. They’ve been alone since Karen ushered out the former closet cases. “Jack,” he says, very softly.  
“Hmm?” Jack makes a show of leaning up a little to hear him better.

“I’m a little scared,” Bill confesses, and his baby blues wobble a bit.

Jack has to try his damndest not to dance a jig. He is a lot of things, but he scores a lot of men for a reason. “Don’t worry,” he soothes, framing Bill’s face with his hands. “I’ll be very gentle.”

The next kiss is welcomed. Bill’s mouth yields under Jack’s, and though at first his tongue shies away, Jack’s finds it, coaxes it, entwines with it. He tastes like the fruit punch from the snack table — sweet and virginal, in a sense. Virginal where it counted, anyway. They kiss for long minutes; Jack can go all night like a lumberjack (and once, all night _with_ a lumberjack.) He presses himself against Bill, smiling into the kiss as, at long last, the other man’s hands rise from their place on the wall to rest upon Jack’s hips. No erection yet, but soon enough. He catches Bill’s tongue, draws it into his own mouth, and sucks it. Bill moans — a strangled, desperate sound wrenched from deep within him.

“Come on,” Jack whispers, drawing back. He grabs Bill’s wrist and tugs him back down the hall.

“Where?” Bill sounds confused. A quick shoulder-check reveals that he looks dazed. _McFarland, you dog. You are amazing._

“Back to the room you had reserved.” Jack shoves the door open, practically drags Bill inside, and locks it behind them.

“H-here?” Bill glances around. “But…”

“Shh,” Jack presses a finger to his lips. “I’m going to bring you back where you belong.”

“Where do I belong?” Bill asks, wary. He doesn’t resist when Jack leads him to the couch, though — nor when Jack pushes him down upon it.

“With us, darling. Be yourself.” He leans over, brushes his lips against Bill’s earlobe. “You liked it, hm? When I was blowing in your ear.” He demonstrates, reveling in the other man’s shudder. “You wanted more.”

“I…” Bill swallows. Jack trails a line of wet kisses from his ear to his throat. “J-Jack—”

“It’ll be good,” Jack promises, kissing the underside of Bill’s chin. “I swear I will make it good.” He sits up, sheds his clothes so quickly, one would think he practiced (he did.) Naked, he stands over Bill’s prone form, erection proud and upright.

Bill still looks nervous, but Jack sees the tent pitching in his khakis. He squirms in the cushions, and Jack knows what he wants and is afraid to ask for, so Jack steps up. He’ll help Bill out now, help him back, and the end result is better for the both of them. Jack kisses him again, straddles his hips and rubs hands down his chest. Slowly, he pulls up both Bill’s shirt and sweater, revealing inch after inch of soft, white skin. Bill moves around to accommodate, but when his tops are blinding him, Jack takes advantage of the sensory deprivation and bends over to capture one pink nipple between his lips.

“Ah!”

Jack grins as he flicks his tongue over the bud. With Bill blinded and his arms trapped with his own clothes, Jack sucks and nibbles one nipple and pinches the other with his thumb and forefinger. He can feel Bill’s erection now, and the blond writhes beneath him, struggling out of his shirts. Fingers tangle in Jack’s hair, nails scrape at his scalp.

“Jack…”

Reluctantly, Jack shimmies downward, loving the way Bill’s stomach jumps beneath the pads of his fingers — feeling triumphant when he goes for Bill’s belt and the blond outright groans. He swallows Bill’s cock and loves the wail that earns him. Jack happens to know he gives one hell of a blowjob.

Bill doesn’t last long — closet cases rarely do, the first time. It’s just too much for them. Jack swallows — he always swallows closet cases; you’ve taken something they’ve been hiding from the world for ages, and the least you can do is show them it’s precious and worth every risk. Jack helps get his pants off, stroking him as he quivers from aftershock, and then asks, “Can I show you how good it is?”

Bill looks like he’s going to cry, but Jack recognizes the significance. Bill swallows once, hard, and nods. “Will it hurt?”

“I won’t let it.” Jack’s already turning him over, helping him up onto his hands and knees. He carries lube and condoms in his pockets — he knew what his plans were today — and fetches them now. First, he explores Bill with his tongue, questing, flicking the ring of muscle and enjoying the surprised moans. He fucks Bill with his tongue next, and the cries wrested from the blond are delicious. He sneaks a slick finger in with the tongue, digging deep, curving up to find—

“ _God, Jack!_ ”

—Yes. Jack rolls the condom on, slicks himself, and slowly slides inside. Bill is tight, warm, and untouched. Jack is in heaven. Bill has dropped his head into folded arms on the arm of the sofa — and couches aren’t the greatest for balance and rhythm, but Jack has had a lot of practice. He thrusts, rocking into Bill with skill and precision until it becomes too much for him to bear. Spurred onward by the encouraging cries, Jack fucks him in earnest until he comes with a wail, twitching, unwilling to leave the tight heat.

Eventually he does, though, slipping out and discarding the condom. Bill is on his knees, but pillowed on the arm of the couch. Jack pants some kisses up his spine, touches his sweaty skin and finds an earlobe with his teeth. “You okay?”

“Yes,” Bill sobs, and Jack rubs his back, because he understands.


End file.
